


Dying just to feel alive

by lenasorensen



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, don't mind the title it really isn't angsty, i've had this in mind since april, it's a soft jaepil, okay some mild angst, very mild though, very subtle implications of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenasorensen/pseuds/lenasorensen
Summary: He remained just as Jae last remembered him to be.He got caught up remembering the times he had spent with Wonpil for the past years that they had spent together, the taste of it bittersweet and not unlike tracing a cold finger on old, sore wounds that had been sweetly numbed.





	Dying just to feel alive

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by my brother's relationship with his ex-girlfriend, so a lot of the things here are very real
> 
> title from eden's fumes
> 
> i do not own day6
> 
> enjoy !!

Light spilled on the pavement through the glass door of the cafe as Jae stood lifelessly before it, cold-bitten fingers coming to wrap around the handle to pull it open. Immediately, the warmth trapped inside the coffee shop came washing through him in waves of sporadic heat, causing a shiver to run down his arms. 

 

This year’s winter was cold and a soft color of dismal, the sky hovered by dull, grey clouds and a barely peeking sun that was nothing short of a meager glimmer of hope. There was something about the almost-burgundy color of the walls of the coffee shop that attracted Jae’s eyes, the unusual color standing out like a sore thumb in such a pale neighborhood, but its presence wasn’t a particularly new revelation. If anything, it could almost amount to an eye-sore.

 

Just as a mild-mannered waitress was calling out for him to suit himself and have a seat, a canvas of burnt caramel hair and a pair of enthralled, focused eyes of the same shade enticed his curiosity, pulled a reminiscent smile on his face as nostalgia swelled in his heart. 

 

All the way around the back of the cafe where the lights were dimmer and where there were outlets for computer-users, Kim Wonpil sat with his back hunched and his face virtually sucked by the screen of his computer before him, licking the top row of his teeth in stark concentration. 

 

He remained just as Jae last remembered him to be.

 

The epiphany was almost unreal, overwhelming at length, and Jae found his peripheral vision blurring more and more until his world filed into blackness, the only recognizable concern being the memories that flashed to life under his unseeing gaze. 

 

He got caught up remembering the times he had spent with Wonpil for the past years that they had been together, the taste of it bittersweet and not unlike tracing a cold finger on old, sore wounds that had been sweetly numbed. 

 

\--

 

Park Jaehyung and Kim Wonpil had met by the means of the most mundane cliches one could ever think of. Jae had been working in an almost-burgundy walled cafe around a remote corner of Seoul, the only lucrative measure he had been able to come up with at the time when high school seemed daunting and laundry was a foreign task. He had been tall then, too, but even more so when Wonpil’s size could barely measure up to Jae’s shoulders. 

 

Jae had been all but wet behind the ears, a mere student working amongst calculated hands, and Wonpil hadn’t known how to order coffee. It was safe to say they were both caught in impractical embarrassment for a few agonizing minutes, though several good things compensated for their lack of discretion: the scarlet bleeding into Wonpil’s neck and spreading to his ears was most riveting, he thought; the daze wavering in his eyes as he flicked his glance on the menu board above Jae’s head; or his own heart beating in tandem with the drumming of his fingers on the countertop. 

 

Their relationship had built up upon typical cliches as well, what with Wonpil reluctantly but surely coming back every Tuesdays and Fridays exactly 3 minutes after Jae had begun his shift, had taken to order the same drink over 2 months before he had sheepishly confessed that coffee didn’t have a promising taste to him at all. Regardless, he still kept coming back and tugging along with him a kind of timid stiffness that only Wonpil could pull off with a perfectly straight face to warm Jae’s heart. And he was giving every opportunity for Jae to make a move or put him back to his place, at which Jae, prideful and cocky, could only assume an air of friendly nonchalance in return.

 

In the eventuality, they had hit it off just as Jae finally grew a pair and asked Wonpil out. And soon after, he had become the Jack to his Rose and the Juliet to his Romeo, or the couple who owned all the precepts of romance: matching shirts, surgically sewed at the hip (they couldn’t be found without the other, and at that, constantly linked by the hands), often spotted spoon-feeding sugary treats to each other, had been seen tying their shoelaces together and jumping down puddles on rainy days. It was Jae’s stuff just as much as it was Wonpil’s. 

 

When Jae went to school, he’d boast about his sweet, beautiful boyfriend of 3 weeks, had shown endless loops of pictures of Wonpil to Younghyun and Sungjin, and by extension their whole class, had brought the boy himself to the cafe he worked at to meet his friends (because he had felt that it was time, that they both were ready to face their own part of their lives, just like grown ups would introduce the loves of their lives to their parents for some sort of assertion). 

 

For Wonpil’s birthday, he had dragged Younghyun and Sungjin over to the boy’s backyard, a hundred paper cranes worth Jae’s undying dedication towards his boyfriend in their hands. When the sound of a nearby door closing rustled their minds, they all leapt to their feet to throw those paper origamis in Wonpil’s direction, causing him to choke out a murderous scream and clutch at his red sweatshirt in reaction. Soon after, all of them had burst out in bristles of laughter, even the guy that had come along with Wonpil from school. They learned later that his name was Dowoon. 

 

For Jae’s birthday, Wonpil had prepared a similar surprise, but Jae had been able to anticipate it from a mile away and with his eyes closed. That was how predictable Wonpil had been to him. Wonpil, who had been so warm and so soft in Jae’s arms when he held him tight against his chest, the leftover ribbons Wonpil had meticulously cut out still sliding down their hair. 

 

Jae and Wonpil hadn’t gone to the same high school as teenagers, and perhaps that was where  _ the  _ line had been drawn between them. There were certain hardships about not being able to be in touch at all times, especially as delusional, unrealistic teenagers, each brewing doubts of their own about the other. Their minds had still been unripe and dunked within influential delusions born from watching one too many romance drama. Somewhere along the way, when Jae had turned 18 and Wonpil 17, Jae had abruptly cut ends with his boyfriend. It was over some silly accusation of Wonpil acting aloof, Wonpil cheating on him, Wonpil not loving him anymore. He’d known it was less than true, but perhaps he had longed for a chase game, one that wound up never happening. Instead, Wonpil had taken it a touch more seriously than Jae did, and had taken Jae’s words too literally:  _ Get out of my life.  _

 

There was a hole in his chest as he walked away from Wonpil that day, a dimming glimmer of hope that a hand would come flying and grab at his wrist. And Jae, still prideful and cocky, hadn’t bothered turning around when that hand never came. 

 

Little did he know that was about to spark a never ending cycle of break ups and make ups. 

 

It had been difficult on both ends. Jae had been convinced that they have both reached their tail, unable to fall back into each other’s arms like he had planned it to go. He had been convinced, more so when the soaring regret carried on burning him alive, that there would be no means left to bring Wonpil back into his life. On the other side, Wonpil had had much struggle reconciling to the break up, accepting that maybe he  _ had  _ been cheating, somehow, though Jae had been the only one he’d ever kiss. 

 

However, things did not end easily between Jae and Wonpil. 

 

On a Saturday night, the burn in his heart still vivid and painful, Jae had been watching Younghyun uncaringly play away on his playstation with the only console he owned when Younghyun’s phone rang loudly against the stillness that stretched into a thin line between them. His friend shoved it away with a socked feet until it fell off the bed, but it hadn’t stopped it from its ceaseless rings.

 

“Dude, would you pick it up already? Your ringtone’s giving me a headache.”

 

“Everything’s been giving you a headache since you broke up with Wonpil anyways.” Younghyun swerved to his right as if it would help his Tekken character aim its kick better. Nonetheless, the stinging reminder of Wonpil buzzed in his ears even after a long and hard stare at Younghyun, who seemed to be relinquishing the last shreds of his stubborness. “Alright, fine. Fetch me my phone.”

 

“What am I, your dog?” Jae scoffed, still reaching down the bed to fetch Younghyun’s phone despite himself.

 

“Shut up and kindly give it to me,” he said, hitting pause and scooping his vibrating phone from Jae’s hand. “Yo, Dowoon,” he spoke into the device, casting an inquisitive glance at Jae who mirrored it with an even more nonplussed expression. Dowoon never called, and the one time he had, it was because the cops had caught him texting while driving and had pulled him up by the side of the road. (Yes Dowoon drove. He was a badass kid.) Now, they had a tendency to associate Dowoon’s calls to inordinate bad news. 

 

Dowoon’s deep voice unfolded from the phone’s small speakers, but Jae would be inhuman if he could decipher anything. 

 

“What’s he saying?” Jae asked, leaning closer. Younghyun held up a finger in an another indication for him to shut up. 

 

“Wait-- what? Wonpil? Nah dude, it’s not happening.” The name tugged sharply at Jae’s heartstrings, and he shot a harder look at Younghyun with a deeper sense of determination. By now, Younghyun was stupidly simpering from ear to ear, furthering Jae’s irate condition. “Nah, nah, Dowoon, you must have looked wrong. It can’t be him.”

 

“What’s going on?” Jae mouthed, only to have Younghyun’s broad back displayed to him after a few seconds. He groaned in frustration, pulling his friend’s shoulder and starting to reach for his phone. “Give it to me! Let me talk to him!”

 

“Yah, Jae, get off me, Jesus. Yeah sorry Dowoon, you were saying? Who was it?” Younghyun still spoke, spreading his feet on Jae’s lanky chest and keeping him at a harmless distance. But long-limbed Jae had yet to give up, pushing past Younghyun’s blocking hand that was swatting his attempts at stealing his phone to fruitlessness. “Holy fuck-- he got over Jae that fast?”

 

“What?” Jae yelled, now pouring all of his strength in his endeavor to trample on Younghyun’s rather built frame. Needless to say, it was near impossible. “Let me talk to him!”

 

“Wait a sec, Dowoon, Jae’s with me right now.” When Younghyun said that, a distinct ‘aah’ sounded from the phone, followed by a serie of poorly uttered words of ‘don’t let him hear this or he’ll go crazy’ that seethed anger in Jae’s windpipe. 

 

“What’s that about me going crazy? I swear I’m going to kill you Younghyun if you don’t let me talk to him.”

 

“Alright, I’m hanging up, I’m going to tell him.” Younghyun snickered for some absurd reason that had Jae fuming up a few degrees. 

 

“Wait, hyung, think again--” were Dowoon’s last words before Younghyun hung up, throwing his phone on the carpet beneath. 

 

“Dude!” Younghyun seemed to have a permanent smile etched into his lips now, and Jae had yet to know what was so amusing that held this effect on him. “You won’t believe it. Wonpil made out with Jinyoung tonight!”

 

“What?!” Jae cried out, mouth running dry and blood turning freezing cold. Now Dowoon seriously was the epitome of the mailman of inconveniences. “When? Where?”

 

“He’s at the house party that everyone was talking about. You know, the house party that you turned down on me because you wanted to try out that new video game?”

 

“Shut up. When was this?”

 

“Just a few minutes ago. Dowoon said it was pretty shocking but he hadn’t known I was with you.”

 

“This is crazy! What the hell? It hasn’t even been a month!”

 

“Guess he’s quicker than some of us,” Younghyun wriggled his eyebrows in Jae’s way, receiving a very ugly scowl in retaliation. Jae sank into the mattress dismally, in a way that let Younghyun know that he wasn’t handling it well at all and that a misplaced word somewhere could trigger very possible tears.

 

Obviously, there had been enough of his play pretend. 

 

Jae brought his knees up to his chin and stared through the stainless glass of his frames, feeling utterly dejected and let down for some reason. He wasn’t about to cry, but the hurt was still acute somewhere in the hollow of his heart. Had it really been this easy for Wonpil to move on? He hadn’t thought it through enough to know how to tolerate this, how to reconcile to the fact that Wonpil could actually live without him. He could feel Younghyun’s worried yet uncomfortable stare upon him, like he was weighing him up for his vain inclination. Jae leaned back into his crumpled pillows with a weary sigh, glaring holes into his ceiling like it would improve his situation. 

 

“Why were you even laughing earlier? I don’t find it funny at all,” Jae croaked out, wringing his fingers together above his stomach. His voice was calm now, barren of anger, but it was still there nonetheless. His skin was prickling with it, even, boiling and searing. In some ways, maybe he’d deserved it. 

 

“I might sound like an insensitive prick, but I guess I’ve seen it coming somehow.”

 

“What? The making out?”

 

“No, you moping around and regretting this like a little girl.”

 

“I’m not a little girl.” He frowned. 

 

“Then grow a pair and apologize to him.”

 

“I’m not the one making out with some effeminate dude at 1 in the morning, helplessly drunk and high.”

 

“How’d you know he was drunk and high?” Younghyun raised a brow at him.

 

“Because,” Jae sighed, covering his glassed eyes with his forearm. “Wonpil would never do anything like that unless there’s a filter covering for his actions later. And excuse me, he’s at Jackson’s house party. You don’t get out of there not drunk or high.”

 

“Well, tough guy, you scored one. Now you gotta apologize.”

 

“Like I said--”

 

“No, you’re not the one making out with Jinyoung, but you’re the one who broke up with Wonpil under false pretense. Or so I do recall.”

 

“Stop it with your eloquent language. It makes it sound true.”

 

“That’s because it is.”

 

There was a pause, one that was stiffening Jae’s bone into concrete, and that agonizing feeling of dread seeped into his blood, similarly to when Jae had first planned to ask Wonpil out. As the revelation carved itself into his brain so diligently that Jae was afraid he’d have to have it surgically removed, obscene images began to flare to life behind his eyelids, ones wherein Wonpil didn’t look like himself, didn’t look into Jae’s eyes with his swollen lips and a sickenly fond gaze. They weren’t together anymore, but the mere idea of Wonpil posing his lips upon another pair than his seemed all but disgruntling, unbearably horrifying at best. And to him, it felt like it would never sit well with him even after years. 

 

Besides the disgruntlement and the inescapable anger, Jae felt a sort of tremendous let down. He wasn’t exactly conceited by any stretch of the imagination, but of all people, did Wonpil have to stoop that low, especially after having his heart broken by truly yours? Well, Jae couldn’t say that he didn’t break his own heart along the way, and that this didn’t infuse a vindictive sort of substance into his veins, but it would take another millenial for him to admit it aloud. 

 

But, at the end of the day, if everything still ached like he had fallen twice from a cliff, then surely, Jae must very much still be in love with Wonpil.

 

“Fine,” he grunted through clenched teeth, removing himself from the bed and stomping down the stairs to put on his shoes. 

 

“Wait-- Jae.” Younghyun was a hot step behind. “It’s 1 am, what are you doing?”

 

“I’m going to apologize to him.”

 

“When I said you should apologize to him, I didn’t mean now-- wait, Jae!”

 

He hadn’t bothered closing the door, quite sure that Younghyun was only following close behind because his typical unearthly curiosity that made up for 50% of him wouldn’t let him live it down if he ever missed this. This being Jae kneeling down before Wonpil and asking for his forgiveness. Nobody would want to miss a rarity. Too bad for Sungjin.

 

The night wind was warm and blowing against Jae, ruffling his hair but not unsteadying him from his pace. Jackson’s house was a mere three blocks down from his, and it would only take a few deep breaths and perhaps a little more ounce of courage to yell those short yet heavy words to Wonpil’s ears. 

 

“Jae, you’re not actually going to do this, are you?”

 

“What does it look like I’m doing, genius? How hard can it be though? I’ve been in a relationship with him before. There’s no way he’s not baiting me.”

 

“You sound sure. Thought this through?”

 

“No. But I have a vague idea of what I should do.” Already, the buzzing sound of music was spilling beneath Jae’s walking feet. He was getting closer.

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know. Apologize to him?”

 

“Well geez, you figured that out quick.” Younghyun rolled his eyes.

 

“Your input was not needed, but thanks. Now be a good friend and wait here.”

  
  
  


Jae hustled past a line of people in the doorway, feeling mildly out of place in his sweatpants and a thin cotton shirt among the horde of students encased in all sorts of tight fitted clothing. Without a single care, he still traipsed deeper into Jackson’s house wearing a thin smile and his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants, unmindful of some of the heads turning in his direction and the loud, tasteless music that he would have been drunkenly dancing to had he made the half-baked decision to come. 

 

He cut his way through the dim house and straight to where he’d expect Jackson to be, and he had been correct to look in the kitchen first. The guy could look worse for wear, honestly, hair slightly disheveled and the first few buttons of his shirt seemed to have flown away somewhere, but his face made it clear that Jae wasn’t about to have a very gracious conversation. Already, he broke into a exceptionally impressive smile, as if seeing Jae before him was the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

 

“Hey man, didn’t think I’d see you here!” Before Jackson could have a chance to grab the whole of Jae’s scrawny figure in a bone-crushing hug, he pushed a hand against the man’s chest and breathed in a relieved sigh.

 

“You seen Wonpil around?”

 

“Wonpil? I think he passed out in my room upstairs. Bam put him there ‘cuz-- you should have seen his face! He’d had too much, I think. You wanna go check on him?” Jackson asked, as if Jae and Wonpil hadn’t broken up a short three weeks prior. Perhaps it was imprinted on the world’s mind that Jae belonged to Wonpil and vice versa. Jackson had only noticed Jae’s worn, grey sweatpants and frowned at it like it was a plaintive display of sacrilege. 

 

“Actually,” Jae said, already starting to walk past Jackson. “I’m gonna take him home.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he exited the kitchen and climbed up the stairs to scout for Jackson’s room. It didn’t take too long to spot it, what with the only door painted in lime green begging to be found at the near end of the corridor, something that could only exist in Jackson’s agenda. 

 

Once he opened it with a strange sense of anticipation, as if he was going to be put face-to-face to a very dreadful situation involving his ex-boyfriend and a certain Jinyoung, Jae sighed resignedly as the blurred lights of the corridor poured into the room and outlined the curve of Wonpil’s sleeping form. It was such a heartwarming sight to welcome him, reminiscent of all the times Jae had spent merely gazing over Wonpil’s features at repose and the slow rise and fall of his chest. Something sewed into his heart, prickled at it acutely when he remembered that not even an hour ago, this person that Jae held so dearly to his heart had gotten his tongue shoved down another person’s throat. 

 

Nonetheless, Jae still dragged his feet inside the room and dropped to his knees beside the bed, brought a palm to press it warmly on Wonpil’s cold cheek. 

 

“You’re really that dead, aren’t you baby,” he muttered, sliding his hand down until they cup Wonpil’s soft neck. Jae almost started when he stirred, mumbled a string of slurred words under his breath. “Let’s get you out of here.”

 

With the most gentle grasp Jae had ever had to endeavor, he slithered his lanky arms behind Wonpil’s neck and scooped his legs to press the whole of him into his chest. Everything had rolled perfectly in place for the dragging-Wonpil-out-of-here plan, until the joints in his ankles cracked a horrific sound from the pressure applied to them, and had Wonpil’s eyes shoot open as a result. The one thing Jae always seemed to forget was how badly of a light sleeper Wonpil was. 

 

Jae froze in his spot, balancing Wonpil in his arms and his diligence on eggshells, waiting for Wonpil’s drunkenly tired eyes to meet his halfway. With the way they were awfully dropped and saturated with sheer exhaustion, Jae doubted Wonpil would actually recognize him through all those layers separating their dimension. 

 

But eventually, Wonpil lifted his hooded eyes to Jae’s when he finally realized his feet weren’t touching the ground, and a mixture of surprise, longing and relief washed his face clean of any residue of drunkenness that was left on it. 

 

“Jae, is that you?” he asked, sloppily wringing his hands behind Jae’s neck and holding onto him for dear life as if it were a vital need. The light casted upon him infused more life in his features than the weight of his tiredness made them seem, the shadows of his eyelashes softly grazing the top of his cheeks. Wonpil looked lifeless, yet still so pretty drenched in such drab tones. 

 

“Yes baby, and we’re going home.” Jae readjusted Wonpil in his embrace, resisting the urge to bury his face into Wonpil’s neck and feeling the familiarity weave between them. (He’d probably die of embarrassment later but Wonpil wouldn’t remember that.) But he needn’t do that when Wonpil himself crashed his forehead on Jae’s shoulder and croaked out what sounded most like a whimper of relief, his arms stiffening tighter around Jae’s neck and the impression of a smile carving itself on Jae’s skin. He walked down the stairs and avoided everyone’s gaze, only focusing on removing himself and Wonpil out of this place. On some corner, Jae spotted Younghyun seated on a couch and receiving an almost-lap-dance by some girl he didn’t know. He shrugged noncommittally in Younghyun’s general direction and drifted right through the front door. 

 

“I can’t believe that you’re here,” Wonpil slurred with his voice in all its unintelligible glory, the night air whistling in their ears in greeting. “I missed you so, so damn much Jae, like, I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

 

“What are you talking about?” Jae asked in vain, knowing well how words wouldn’t even begin to register in Wonpil’s brain anyway. Maybe he’d already forgotten about the whole scandalous making out with Jinyoung part. Knowing Wonpil, he’d only blink confusedly if the question was thrown at him. 

 

“Jae, I think of you all the time! I was waiting for you-- where have you been?”

 

“I’m right here now babe, it’s fine, look.”

 

“Do you know? How glad I am? I didn’t… think I’d make it without you.”

 

“Go to sleep Pil.”

 

“Right here? You’re kidding! We’re on a boat!”

 

“We’re not on a boat.”

 

“Jaeeeeee,” he whined, throwing his head back. 

 

“What?”

 

“I’m soooo in love with you. I hope you’ll think I’m cute again so we can get back together,” Wonpil laughed, the kind that was unrestrained, crooked and dry on the edges and the throaty inhales that spelled out how happy he was. Jae faltered a fraction in his steps, taken aback by the confession. It wasn’t the first time, but it was still rare enough to rouse sharp surprise and sweet pleasure in his system. “I reaaaally think we should. I don’t— I don’t know why you left. I still don’t know! I’m tired… I didn’t like that you broke up with me. Dowoon wouldn’t stop rubbing it in my face, I don’t know why…” 

 

“Love you too,” Jae murmured as lowly as he could, feeling a tinge bit guilty for taking Wonpil’s semi-conscious condition to his advantage. “But you know, we’ve never really been separated.”

 

“Really? But I don’t understand… you’ve always been with me and suddenly… it’s like somebody closed my eyes and I couldn’t see anymore. And I couldn’t hear you, touch you, you weren’t there. You know what I mean? I thought I’d  _ die  _ when you left. You left…” Wonpil’s rambling on began losing all of its sense, had Jae amusedly confused at all the stupid sweetness Wonpil was blurting without a sober filter.

 

“Jae, I wanna get a turtle,” he heard Wonpil whisper when there was no response on his end, lids coming to a close over his eyes, limbs slackening between the brackets of Jae’s arms. 

 

“That’s so random, you puny little bean.” Jae smiled, feeling warm all over, even when he remembered that that mouth sprouting sweet nonsense had been posed on someone else’s. It didn’t deter him from his intense staring, all the way until home greeted him and the night wrapped up with Jae spooning his boyfriend and caging him with his long arms, if only to make him feel safe again.

 

\--

 

Jae remembered owning a superman figurine that had been a popular property among kids his age, and he loved it so much that sometimes, he brought it to sleep with him and to his bubble baths. He loved it  _ so _ much that a few years later, he still played with it like it was Christmas everyday, albeit the face was hardly even recognizable anymore and its arm kept falling off from its plastic socket. Jae had been sad beyond belief when he realized that no amount of paper glue would successfully revive his figurine as if it had never been out of its box. Even the most meager parts composing his beloved superman figurine had been crucial to mend its beauty; without something that originally formed him, how could it be cool again? Even that poor excuse of a red superhero boot was of paramount importance in the overall structure of his toy. Although the general form of his figurine was terribly chipped and worn, it emanated its beauty wherein all its memories lied. Lacking even a barely functioning body part didn’t make him  _ him _ . Not even the arm that he had stolen from his sister’s barbie doll had cut it. It just wasn’t the same. 

 

After a few years, Jae came to an abrupt realization that the exact same prospect applied to his relationship with Wonpil. Without Wonpil, surely being the most vital element in his life, Jae wasn’t complete, lacking and hollow in so many aspects that Wonpil had been careful to fill out throughout the years. He had been the one Jae had spent the most time with, had acquired the most experience with. And Jae wasn’t talking about just any trivial experience like making love or attending concerts together. It was never-seen-before situations that called for their seamless cooperation. 

 

Like that time when they went for a visit at Jae’s grandparents’ house in the countryside, and God knew how little effort it took for the both of them to get lost in record time. Disoriented, they ripped through the night barefoot in some street where trees and tall grass looked perfectly identical, giving them no indication of where else to go, and Jae was on the verge of a break down at the sight of Wonpil bawling his eyes out. Incidentally, they had encountered, of all the possibilities in the world, a brothel in the middle of nowhere, but relief flooded into their eyes nonetheless. They rented a room, not without receiving judgmental regards and scowls (“Aren’t you gon’ pay for a girl or something?” “Uhm, no thanks. We were just looking for a place to stay”). As Jae matted Wonpil’s tear-slicked face with a dirty towel, he realized that their location wasn’t the biggest concern of it all. Because soon after, the rain had begun plundering down on their stained window and had leaked through scattered cracks in the wall that made you wonder how the hell they even got there. In the end, they both didn’t get any proper sleep in favor of blocking out the cascading rain with the only spare towels, waking up from a 30-minute nap curled around each other to see that the room turned into nothing short of a catastrophe.

 

It wasn’t  _ just  _ some appreciated experience that Jae could look back on with a smile; it was a token, a gold mine, something that he could only enjoy if Wonpil was still there to laugh to tears about with him. Just like how Wonpil hadn’t been a mere memory to him, but the arm to his superman figurine, the deciding detail in his life that Jae couldn’t possibly cut out. 

 

After their first fight that was nothing short of sheer teen angst and inconsequential, rash decisions on Jae’s end, Jae had found himself trapped in a whirlpool of regular break ups with Wonpil. It hadn’t happened immediately after they had gotten back together that night, but rather when they had bade farewell to their homes and had stepped foot into their new life as college students. 

 

The most frequent case scenario they had to face is  _ the spontaneous break up _ , which would be profoundly regretted the next morning, and apologies usually ensued before they decided to wind up together again, of course. For example, Jae would decide Wonpil’s sporadic jealousy was unbearable at times and he would cut ends loose on the moment because it just didn’t suit him then. The morning after, he would recognize that he actually was guilty of loving a jealous Wonpil, and that breaking things off might be marginally redundant and maybe overstepping some sort of unestablished boundary. He hadn’t been particularly wrong on the matter of Wonpil’s envious nature, but perhaps he really couldn’t have an orderly lifestyle if he didn’t spend it beside his lover. 

 

Regardless of what he thought, nothing easily stopped them from fighting with each other, and by extension, ending up in a vicious cycle of break ups and make ups. 

 

Jae remembered clearly at least three of their fights… 

 

\--

 

It was sunny when he arrived at their usual table in the campus, and his back had been burning from all the time he spent looking for his friends. There was a vacant seat where he knew someone should have been occupying, but it wasn’t like he didn’t expect it. He slumped down next to Younghyun with a long, dragged sigh and planted his glassed face into his folded arms right after. 

 

“What’s with the shit mood hyung?” Dowoon asked him, playing at some game on his phone and looking bored more than anything, probably because he already knew of what had transpired.

 

When Jae hadn’t bothered answering, Younghyun elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a side glance filled with inquisitive questions. “Yeah dude, what’s with those wrinkles between your brows? Is it your upcoming statistics exam in economy class?”

 

“Oh, for God’s sake Younghyun, do you really have to ask?” Even if Jae couldn’t actually see Sungjin, the implied eye-roll was extremely loud and distinct in his voice. “It’s Wonpil, of course. What were you hoping for?”

 

“A miracle,” Younghyun answered solemnly. 

 

“Well, what happened this time hyung?” Dowoon asked, still as disinterested. 

 

“Can’t we talk about something else?” Jae groaned, seeking for some sort of magical technique involving ways to vanish from here. Maybe he should’ve chosen another moment of the day when Sungjin wasn’t so grumpy and Younghyun uptight from a test he had probably failed after having pulled an all-nighter. Dowoon, on the other hand, was always as indifferent. 

 

“Is it about Chaeri? I overheard Jinyoung talking about it with Mark or something.” 

 

“Younghyun, the Chaeri thing was yesterday afternoon. Wonpil made Jae swear to never talk to her again.”

 

Dowoon barked a laugh, never tearing his eyes from his screen. “That’s ridiculous! That’s such a Wonpil thing to do. It was inescapable.” 

 

“Well,” Younghyun continued with the tone that made it hard not to punch him. “Wonpil has a point. Jae was all over that girl. I would be mad if my girl did that to another man too. It’s not ridiculous.”

 

“What?” Jae bolted up, unmindful of his glasses slipping down his nose bridge. “I  _ wasn’t _ all over her! I was just politely telling her that I knew exactly where she could shove that assignment paper because she kept bragging about her grade! And when Wonpil walked in the cafeteria just happened to be when she hugged me because she thought it was a compliment!”

 

“Jae’s getting worked up,” Dowoon teased, tactfully dodging Jae’s hand swat with a nervous cry. 

 

“I am  _ defending  _ my dignity. You guys just don’t get how difficult it is to deal with Wonpil sometimes.”

 

“Wonpil is just a poor guy who just has to submit to your bullshit because he feels like he has to. If you could just stop breaking up with him because you felt like it didn’t convene you, it’d be great for the both of you,” Younghyun went on in a cold tone. Jae gritted his teeth because regardless of the predicament, Mister Straight McStraight always found a way to be on Wonpil’s side.  _ You can’t just say something about someone who isn’t there to defend themselves _ , he had once said or something. 

 

“I did  _ not  _ break up with him this time! He did it!”

 

“Well, over what?”

 

“Some video game!”

 

“Jesus…” Sungjin sighed, rubbing his eyes with his index finger. “That’s really not any better than the Chaeri thing.”

 

“Well, I’m sure Wonpil had a good reason anyways.” Younghyun shrugged. 

 

“Oh my God, Brian, can you stop taking his side without some sort of context?” 

 

“My name’s--”

 

“Either way,” Sungjin cut in before Younghyun had a chance to reiterate something sarcastic and snarky. “This relationship with Wonpil isn’t working out. It’s been this on and off stump that still hasn’t grown out of its problematic thorns for years now Jae. Aren’t you tired?”

 

Jae’s shoulder deflated dramatically, and the only excuse he had to recompose his posture was the pathetic ache in his back that he had gotten from sleeping in an awkward position last night as he waited for Wonpil to text him back. 

 

“It’s more complicated than that,” he said quietly, thinking back to the precious times with Wonpil that was so difficult to lose with just a few words of farewell. You can’t lift up a heavy bag with a mere pair of tweezers at your disposition and not expect it to spill hereafter. “It’s way more complicated than that.” 

 

“You should really make up your mind. Both of you. It’s as bad for you as it is for him,” Sungjin continued, had taken a softer tone now that he was acutely aware of the tenderness bleeding into Jae’s face. It was understandable that their arguments and unremitting break ups still stirred a numbing variety of hurt in Jae’s chest, because they were in the middle of stepping over the line separating adolescence and adulthood, and the experience was made much more appreciated when Wonpil was beside him. He warned himself briskly that if he did not reach a definitive end with Wonpil eventually, somehow, it would end up backfiring against him. Perhaps their love had only served to damn them. 

 

But for the first time, Jae had almost been convinced that it was time to stop and move on to other more compelling matters than childish disputes over some video game challenge or sourceless jealousy. It was either they solved their problems with a compromise, or tie a knot and go on their separate ways. Even if the latter option was infinitely less tempting and ultimately a sure way of drilling himself a somewhat habitual pain in the heart, Jae knew he wouldn’t even be in this position in the first place had they been successful in the first option. Which they, in all evidence, weren’t. 

 

“Whatever, it’s not like I care or anything,” Jae scoffed, a little more energized. After all, if he adamantly set his mind to forget, he didn’t doubt that he couldn’t. 

 

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Dowoon laughed, and Jae flicked him on the forehead. 

  
  
  
  


Jae had done a comparatively good job at avoiding Wonpil like the plague for a few days. It wasn’t until he had been comfortably lounging around in Dowoon’s dorm room, blankly staring at his chicken scratch of a handwriting, when a particularly decisive incident happened that was going to fasten Jae and Wonpil back together. 

 

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans and startled Jae out of his stupor, and like he had been repeatedly doing since he broke up with Wonpil, he hurriedly digged his hand in his pocket to fetch his phone and checked the caller’s ID. He had deleted Wonpil’s number, but that didn’t stop him from recognizing the digits displayed in bold numbers on the screen of his phone. He felt it buzz for a strangling moment, dumbly gazing at the device in his hand. 

 

“Wonpil’s calling,” he said to nobody in particular. 

 

“Well? Are you going to answer?” 

 

“I…” He tried, but faltered when the rings suddenly stopped. Maybe it had been a good idea to be with Dowoon after all. For all the pretending he did, Dowoon was actually as knowledgeable as a cactus in the matter of romance. At least, someone like Dowoon wouldn’t spend his time trying to break Jae off with Wonpil by virtue of partial connections like Younghyun did, or try to persuade Jae that being single wasn’t so bad like Sungjin tended to do. 

 

He only saw a fraction of hesitation grace Dowoon’s face when his phone’s screen lit up again and began buzzing between his fingers, and both fell into silence. 

 

Dowoon didn’t stop him when he picked up the call and pressed his phone against his ear.

 

“Pil?”

 

“Jae? Oh God Jae help me please,” Wonpil’s quaking voice muffled by the pounding of the rain in the backdrop sounded from his phone’s speakers, and Jae instinctively scrambled up to flank around Dowoon’s window. 

 

“Where are you Pil? Shit it’s raining pretty hard. Pil?”

 

“I’m at some street Jae, I don’t know where I am! I can’t get home and it’s--”

 

“Jesus, it’s 9:30 or something, why aren’t you home!” Jae paced in front of the TV, ignoring Dowoon’s lingering stare. 

 

“I was at Sungjin hyung’s house. We were supposed to go over calculus but we finished later than we expected, and when I got out, it just started raining! I tried finding shelter but the only thing I found was a roof extension in this shady neighborhood hyung. I can’t-- I don’t have an umbrella!”

 

“Can you tell me where you are? Tell me what’s around you. Stay calm Pillie, I’m coming. Dowoon, I’m taking your car,” Jae said as he hastily put on his shoes and grabbed the keys. Dowoon might have said something to his retreating back but Jae had been long gone to hear anything. 

 

“It’s-- well, for starters, I’m in front of a 7-11. There’s a… there’s a phone booth not very far from here. Hyung, there are no cars around and the lampposts all died on me--”

 

“What turns did you take? Did you go left or right after you left his home?”

 

After a brief and vague description of the alley where Wonpil was hiding from the pelting rain, Jae tried his best attempt at driving through the shroud of haze while keeping Wonpil on the line. Their relationship might be as good as done, but it wasn’t reason to leave Wonpil freezing in this shit weather when he was obviously on the brink of crying. It was no secret how afraid his ex-boyfriend was of the dark, and although Jae could hardly relate, he had been with Wonpil long enough to know that it was a serious issue. It was briskly dark, and that neighborhood was especially notorious for its shadiness; Jae himself had goosebumps even thinking about it, but their relationship couldn’t determine what Jae should or shouldn’t do despite the acute swell of gladness in his heart (he was hoping something would happen). Right now, getting Wonpil back on the safe tracks was a priority that couldn’t be put off because of some love equations gone wrong. 

 

Basically, heartbroken or not, Jae was going to pick Wonpil up and bring him back to the comfort of home. 

  
  


It wasn’t particularly difficult to find Wonpil by the hands of sheer luck and maybe some intuition. Jae was already on his toes and wincing from the cold droplets of rain plummeting down his back and into his pants when he pulled over and got out of the car. He tugged along a coat he’d found in the creases of Dowoon’s backseat in a lack of anything better to serve as a shelter and set off to reach Wonpil holding himself together, lips quivering from what Jae could read as fear and, well, it was cold. He stood under a poor excuse of the roof that extended from the 7-11, the light emanating behind him outlining his frame in a way that made it feel like a distant dream. 

 

“You okay Pil?” Jae asked as he approached Wonpil. “Why didn’t you go inside the 7-11, you monkey?”

 

“You’re always so blind to the obvious. Do I look okay to you? And it’s even colder inside!” Wonpil said, but in spite of his snarky words, he still found his way into Jae’s embrace and stumbled in the circle of his arms. The night made it hard to see, but Jae didn’t need much else to know how glad Wonpil was in that moment. There was that telltale imprint of Wonpil’s smile on Jae that made his heart wrench in half and his lips tear into a smile, that one variety of Wonpil’s grin that caused his heart to pound hard and melt all that much more, can’t help but to fall a little bit in love and lose some of that meek resolve. At the end of the day, Jae didn’t want Wonpil out of his life. 

 

“You idiot…You freaking scared me,” Jae whispered, took to wrapping Wonpil in the coat that he’d brought, let his arms linger around Wonpil a little more.

 

“I’m sorry hyung,” came Wonpil’s muffled reply, frail and weak, but so strong Jae had been seized by the urge to pull Wonpil back just enough to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m so sorry for being an ass. And for making you come all the way here.” The rain was still pouring behind his back, cold and nipping, but Wonpil’s smile made it all worth the effort. “Thank you for coming here. Thank you so much… I didn’t think you would, not when I get upset so easily over stupid shit like Overwatch-- I can’t believe I--”

 

“Let’s just go home Pil,” Jae said, pulled Wonpil’s backpack and placed it on his own shoulders before offering his hand shortly after, which Wonpil gladly took.

 

Throughout the rest of the night, there hadn’t been any spoken compromise or a word of establishment exchanged between them save for the knowing looks and the kisses in the shower, but a quiet agreement, the shared understanding that was reduced to nothing short of a mere hush, a secret only the both of them could decipher. Sungjin would never grasp the importance of Wonpil in his life, and although his approach might have been the most pragmatic and evident, Jae couldn’t help but debase it to some sort of ill-will. Romance was a rather light and frivolous surface that Dowoon had never bothered reaching, so if there was anyone Jae wanted to avoid asking for advice, it was him. And Younghyun never went beyond the 3-day span in terms of a stable relationship that didn’t revolve around sex to know much about long-term establishments, so Jae would be a shoe if he took into account what Younghyun thought of his on and off relationship with Wonpil, especially when he was so obviously biased and reserved a soft spot for Jae’s boyfriend. 

 

In the end, it wasn’t up to them to tell love and hate apart. Jae knew exactly the repercussions of being with Wonpil, and regardless of whether or not he knew how to deal with them, Jae knew for one thing that somehow, it would wind up being okay again, like it did everytime. 

 

It didn’t take long for Wonpil and Jae to get back together, and perhaps that was exactly what he had predicted. 

 

\--

 

For the six months that followed, Jae was glad to say that a good part of it was spent rather nicely and had ultimately overshadowed all the times that Wonpil broke up with him. Undoubtedly, they were an odd pair with ordinary tendencies, so it was only natural for them to fight, although it happened far more often than Jae’s friends could handle. It almost seemed as if Jae and Wonpil were understandingly pegged to that one pair that only stayed with the other because both were put in a situation wherein loneliness had a deadly grip upon their throats. It was as though people thought Jae and Wonpil held hands and kissed each other because if not for the other, the remaining options were extremely fickle and near nonexistent. Which truthfully was… more than a little far-fetched. And simply just untrue.

 

The more prominent aspects of Jae and Wonpil usually emerged in the form of their on and off relationship, but people usually failed to see what lied under that surface that had shaped their very reputation. It was all softness and cuddles within the four walls of their dorm room, and outside, it was only limited to hand-holding or perhaps a few kisses on the lips if Jae was feeling generous. Both of them was quite conservative when it came to skinship and exposure to the outside world; Wonpil felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of others and Jae really couldn’t own up to his ego. And they lived off just fine with that, but they’d find themselves at the receiving end of reprimands and judgements like ‘why do you still stay with him if you don’t love him anymore?’ or ‘you’re only hurting yourselves, just let him go’, which was enough to grind on Jae’s nerves so badly that feigning indifference just didn’t suffice anymore. 

 

There was one time when they’d been queuing up to get coffee with Younghyun when a mildly old lady came up to them and fondly smiled at Jae and Wonpil’s linked hands. Jae had met her expectant gaze and wore a smile that could be described as nothing short of tenderness at all the attention she was putting into the soft yet obvious way Wonpil was clenching hard around Jae’s hand. 

 

“Have you been together for a long time?” she’d asked them, putting a soft hand on Wonpil’s arm. 

 

“Yes, we have. Three years.” Wonpil had smiled back, had swept his thumb across the smooth surface of Jae’s hand. 

 

“How sweet. I can see myself and my husband through the both of you. You’ll be together for a long time,” she almost keeled, squeezing Wonpil’s arm and blinking up at Jae. 

 

“Oh please,” Younghyun had swaggered in right between Jae and Wonpil. “They can’t go a day without breaking up. Don’t let a mere act of fondness fool you,” he had laughed. 

 

It was probably meant as a huge, humorless joke, because the lady was sent into sweet peels of laughter, and if it weren’t for the happy crinkles around her eyes, Jae would have driven his fist into Younghyun’s nose already. To him, and seemingly to Wonpil as well, it was insanely annoying how the perspectives on his relationship with him and Wonpil had taken a sharp, irrevocable turn. It irked him that to everyone else, what was precious to him and Wonpil had been sourly demeaned to an unfunny joke that had spiraled out of proportions, had been distorted to something hardly recognizable in Jae’s eyes. What  _ really  _ was the nature of their relationship was also what everybody refused to see as the  _ truth.  _ Wonpil loved Jae, and Jae loved Wonpil. It really wasn’t any more complicated than that.

  
  
  


Still, nothing really stopped them from having this one fight that had left its unforgettable marks in Jae’s memories. 

 

Sex had always been something delicate between the both of them, a matter which they had to carefully traipse around. Perhaps it was because of their conservative nature, but Jae hadn’t bothered searching for excuses that went anywhere beyond that. It wasn’t a real necessity for them, rather, it was a frivolous activity to fill in the blanks. Nonetheless, it was thoroughly shared, and with enough love that they’d feel too overwhelmed to perform again for another 10 days. 

 

Jae had read somewhere in a forum that sex was actually a fundamental part in a relationship and that the chances were extremely fickle for a couple to last without a physical connection other than kissing or hand holding. He had told himself that there was nothing he should be worried about because Wonpil and Jae had their fair share of sexual intercourse, but sometimes, a lot of things begged to differ. 

 

When Jae had been sent overseas as an exchange student for a brief period of time, he’d thought love-making was all that was on Wonpil’s mind when he’d stumbled through the door after two months of not being around him. It turned out that an irate glare coupled with angrily crossed arms were what greeted him when he’d had trouble shoving his key in the door handle in the haste of wanting to see his boyfriend--although hardly able to express it. Jae had momentarily asked himself what it was this time, and before the words had a chance to make themselves known, Wonpil turned away with a sigh laced to what he could only discern as sheer exasperation. Now he really had to find out what he did wrong. 

 

And when he asked, Wonpil only curled back into the bed and kept his eyes firmly fastened on the book he was feigning to read. 

 

“Really? After two months and it’s gonna start again?” Jae groaned, but instead of flicking the matter off and walking away to gather himself some snacks, he wiggled his way to scoop Wonpil into his arms and pressed kisses into the curve of his nape. He was in too good a mood to let stupid issues get between him and his boyfriend. So he kept on kissing and biting at the lump of Wonpil between his arms, but Wonpil all but swatted at him and whined in protest, which indefinitely threw Jae off his path. So Wonpil really didn’t want to make love today. 

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jae asked, had Wonpil firmly pinned before him. “Is this really how you’re gonna greet me?”

 

“I just don’t want to do it right now!” Perhaps Wonpil was a little cranky.

 

“That’s not what you said two weeks ago.”

 

“Exactly!” Wonpil grunted through clenched teeth and wrenched his wrists away. 

 

“Yah! What is it with you!”

 

“Take a hint, sherlock! You haven’t called or texted  _ once  _ for two damn weeks. What am I supposed to make of that, asshole?”

 

“Pil, I told you I was gonna be busy.”

 

“Oh you sure had time to post that picture of delicious japanese food on your instagram but not phone me for 5 damn minutes.”

 

“Hey, babe, I swear I’ve been--”

 

“Busy? Give me a break, Jae! I can see through your little lies like freaking windows. Your skull’s as thick as your ego.”

 

“Why haven’t  _ you  _ called then?”

 

“Well, you did tell me you were going to be busy, didn’t you? You’d snap at me again if I ever disturb you in the middle of your essay like you always do.” By the time Wonpil uttered the last word, he was out the door like Jae had come home to an empty flat, leaving him to his distressed sigh in his wake. 

 

Jae had just wanted to blow off some steam and he had ended up blowing his chance. 

 

But he had grown more and more numb to the mistakes they commit. This one was no exception.

  
  
  
  


So a few days later saw Jae indifferently scrolling through his phone, absolutely boyfriend-less and sitting with annoying asshats busy giving him sideway glances. 

 

“You okay Jae?” Sungjin asked, leaned in as much as he dared.

 

“Hm? Yeah I am,” Jae answered, nodded to supply his statement as if to underline it. 

 

“You sure?” came Dowoon’s insistence, tilting his head. 

 

“Yes, I am,” Jae teared his eyes away from his phone to appraise the three pair of eyes staring at him with a mixture of wonderment and amazement. “What are you guys looking at?”

 

“Did you break up with Pil?” This time, it was Younghyun, and Jae frowned because it was enough.

 

“Jesus, is that all you guys are thinking of? Yes! We broke up, what’s new right?” He laughed before going back to scroll through his phone with a near apathetic shake of his head. 

 

“And you’re not sad?” It was Sungjin.

 

“Or even a little angry?” And then Younghyun.

 

“Aren’t you going to complain about him?” Dowoon whispered.

 

“No, I hate him. That’s all. He’s fucking annoying, and we’re not getting back together. Can we put an end to this conversation?”

 

“You don’t hate him,” Sungjin took that mother-hen voice that had started to top the stupidly long list of the things Park Jaehyung disliked. “You just can’t stand him at the moment. But you’ll get over it, right?”

 

“Right! Wonpil’s adorable. Not even the most gruesome of people could hate him. Right Jae?” Younghyun felt comfortable delivering, and Jae had to stop himself from grounding out something offensive that would probably ruin all their years of friendship. 

 

“And you guys would eventually fix everything right?” It was pretty obvious that that last statement of Dowoon was enough to trigger something foul in Jae.

 

“No, I hate him, and I don’t want to get with him again, okay? You guys have to stop meddling with my shit because I don’t like it at all, and before you say anything Sungjin, I really  _ do  _ hate Pil. I’m done with his shit too, so if you guys were expecting the same old maddening closure between us, then y’all can keep dreaming. I’m over him. For real.”

 

“Okay hyung, okay,” Dowoon said almost suspiciously, as though what Jae said was a huge joke. 

 

“I’m serious. I hate him.”

 

“Hey, is that his facebook profile?” Younghyun pointed a distasteful finger at his phone and Jae whipped it out of sight as to save a fraction of his dignity. 

 

“No, it’s not. You’re blind. And delusional.”

 

“Are you wearing that necklace Pil gave you years ago that you never wore before because you deliberated how ugly it was?”

 

“Uhm, no, it’s another one. It’s just similar, I swear--”

 

“I saw the pink sweater in your bag this morning. Actually, you dropped it so I picked it up for you and put it back in your--”

 

“Okay! That’s enough Dowoon. And you two. I got better things to do, so see y’all losers later.” Jae got up and brushed off their deliberate attempt at being badgering today before innocuously walking away as though he hadn’t been caught red-handed doing all the things he was presumably trying his best to hide. 

 

He felt no inclination to fix his behavior that day and mulled over how much he actually hated Wonpil for all the things he made Jae put up with. 

 

In many ways, his day had been very much unkind to him, because the first thing he saw when he entered the 7-11 was a stunning display of Wonpil’s back as he was busy hesitating between the endless options of chips. Jae had felt a little smothered when he approached the figure with appallingly slow steps and gently tapped on his shoulder without thinking twice. 

 

Perhaps it was the air-conditioner doing weird things to him in such a strangling wave of heat in the premature summer, but Wonpil’s smile had all the appeal to send a rush of dizzying feelings back into his head.

 

“Hi Jae,” he said, and Jae could have sworn there was a fleeting haze of sadness and longing flashing beneath the glossy layer of his eyes. 

 

“You wanna get back together?” Jae deadpanned, unable to restrain himself.

 

As if his resolve had been crumbled to shambles, Wonpil’s smile dropped and his face went dead serious for a breathtaking moment. “Yes,” came his answer. 

 

It was clean, simple, no need for debates. Which made Jae wonder how would he ever be able to get those ‘Wonpil shackles’ off his wrists and free himself from their undying grip. But then again, he wasn’t exactly sure whether that was what he really wanted or not.

 

Jae figured that he couldn’t quite reconcile the two conflicting aspects of Wonpil that occupied the vast majority of his brain, but he was fine with putting up with him if it meant that he’d feel this much joy when being with Wonpil. 

 

\--

 

The last time Jae saw Wonpil, it was like it had been hotly engraved in his mind for as long as he would live. 

 

It was animatedly dancing around in the confines of his memory, but perhaps because he had been severely repeating to himself that it was ultimately useless for keeping heart-numbing reminiscents such as this one, it became as vague as it had once been alive. 

 

Jae and Wonpil hadn’t fought as often as they had after that last argument, but they never broke up again. However, when they had whimmed to visit Jae’s parents back in California, it was like a spark was gone, like the lasting taste of spicy chilly was beginning to dim down to a low whisper, an impression that something had indeed been there but it was something that was turning stale and bland. 

 

As they came back home, Jae knew it was going to sting. At least, something acute was there to remind him that things haven’t really just came and gone. Through his years with Wonpil, he had learned many significant things that had exponentially changed his life, and although he had been the one standing before his lover and asking for a resolute end without any looking back, he would never want these years spent any other way. 

 

Wonpil didn’t take it for more than it had been, had just simply nodded in understanding, and once again, it had been that which none other would have looked at without being baffled, like beholding a cow grow a second head. It seemed that their decision had been perfectly logical to Jae and Wonpil, but to someone unfamiliar with their customs, it was as if the world was coming to an end because Wonpil didn’t protest back to what Jae had said to him.

 

Wonpil had  _ agreed _ to terminate their three years of relationship, didn’t stutter out some kind of meek remonstration. 

 

Perhaps it was because they parted ways on perfectly good terms, but it had left everyone else even more astonished than they had been when Wonpil and Jae hadn’t found themselves back together again after that.

 

Shortly after, all of them had graduated, and Wonpil had yet to be seen again since. 

 

\--

 

Jae snapped back to reality.

 

It felt as though a lifetime just fleeted beneath his lids, and before he knew it, he made his way towards that one table that was set right against the almost-burgundy wall at which Jae had spent more time than he’d like staring with diminutive thoughts of Wonpil rushing through his prepubescent little mind. When he used to work here in his naive years of high school, Wonpil had been the predominant part of his memories. Not the coffee, not the almost-burgundy walls, not his nagging manager. 

 

Kim Wonpil, his ex-boyfriend of almost four years bolted upright to meet his eyes, and instantly, his lips curled into a warm smile. 

 

“Hi.” Jae’s voice was no louder than a whisper. 

 

“Hi,” Wonpil closed his laptop, shyly dipped his head behind his bangs. 

 

“I was hoping I’d catch you again.” 

 

“You mean…?” Wonpil hesitated, but the fractional widening of his smile was almost like a very useful assertion to Jae.

 

“I mean we could start all over again. From scratch.”

 

“Alright,” Wonpil answered, breathtaken. 

 

Wonpil hadn’t changed much in 2 years, but Jae didn’t know what he’d expected. He hadn’t foreseen to even have this encounter, and if someone told him he’d meet his ex-lover again, he would have idly turned away in disbelief. Nothing told him he’d make things work with Wonpil again during the time they spent being apart, despite having separated in perfect agreement and without any form of revulsion. Neither parties felt vindictive of the other, and Jae hadn’t felt particularly keen on getting back with Wonpil either. It was something in between, a distant memory fading into something Jae would remember later, perhaps when he had kids and had sporadic thoughts of his past. It wasn’t bitter, it wasn’t all that sweet either. It was just stale. Just Wonpil.

 

But something about the gentle wave of Wonpil’s hair and that soft crinkle around his lips whenever he smiled just carved that fondness in Jae that he hadn’t been able to dismiss with genuine seriousness. 

 

Maybe, Jae had wanted to get back with Wonpil more than he’d thought.

  
  
  


So with an almost morose, nostalgic sigh: “Alright. My name’s Jae, and you are?”

**Author's Note:**

> some of the things here might've been slightly confusing, sorry 
> 
> thank you for reading <3


End file.
